


My Everything

by Batsutousai



Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bloodplay, Loki Is Greedy, M/M, Religious Themes, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1548566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Would you have me own you?" Loki murmured, the words caressing Tom's skin, cooling his face and sneaking under his shirt. "Would you give me all that I would have of you?" </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tom swallowed and peeked up at Loki, watching the way his eyes further darkened when Tom didn't immediately refuse his advances. "And what would you have of me, Loki?" he asked, voice gone low with promise. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>"<b>Everything</b>," Loki breathed against his lips.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Everything

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Thomas "Tom" Hiddleston is based on a real person, and no offence is intended; this is only for the amusement of myself and other like-minded (read: mentally ill) fans.
> 
>  **A/N:** Not feeling well, and there's smut on twitter. Invariably, this translates to ‘Bats wants to write smut’. You're welcome. XD
> 
> This hasn't even had a cursory reread; apologies in advance for any and all errors.

It wasn't often that Tom had both the time and the inclination to masturbate, between his ever-starved-for-intimacy lover and his energy-draining day job, but he currently had a week of downtime, and his lover was still away on business of some form. (It was always best, he knew, not to ask.) 

It had been nice, over the weekend, spending time with his friends, uninterrupted. He'd had a moment where he wished his lover was gone more often, even. But... 

But then the weekend was over and he was reminded that his friends had lives and jobs without him. He was left cooling his heels at home, a stack of fanmail beside him and an empty feeling to the house. If his lover was in, the whole building would feel like it was teeming with life, magical in its energy. His lover would be across from him at the table, studying one of his books or having stolen the laptop to cause mayhem where Tom couldn't run damage control. 

Or he could be curled in front of the telly, watching a film or a programme with constant commentary, rarely polite. He would always know when Tom looked over at him, flashing the brightest of his smiles, like a tiny sun in the middle of the ground floor of their home. 

But Tom's favourite times were when long fingers curled at him, beckoning, the eyes behind them staring at Tom like he was a banquet ready to be laid out and partaken of. Tom would always come, just as hungry for his lover, the way his touches made Tom's skin tingle, his impossible strength, the way he writhed beneath Tom as he breeched him, breathing words in other languages as Tom took his slow, or snarling what could only be curses as Tom pounded him into the nearest flat surface. 

He groaned and leaned back in his chair, idly palming himself as he let himself remember the feeling of his lover bucking beneath him, skin slick and shiny with sweat and need even as he fought back against Tom's hold, eyes glaring but never too strong, never enough to break Tom's fragile grasp. 

It was power on the edge, and there were times when Tom couldn't help but imagine his lover breaking free, spinning them and slamming Tom's back against the wall, one hand curled around Tom's wrist just tight enough to keep them still. He'd lean in, smirking from having caught Tom unawares, and breathe against his ear, "What is the way of it, my Thomas? This is my rodeo now." 

Tom shuddered in his chair, the image so real in his mind's eye. For a moment, it seemed he felt breath against his face, too-cool and sparking at the edges. 

"Is this what you wish of me, my Thomas?" his lover whispered before teeth caught on his earlobe _hard_.

Tom gasped and reached up, feeling the very solid body standing over him. He opened his eyes to find the familiar face pulling back, his ear thrumming with the ache of the bite. "Loki," he whispered, the god's name a benediction on his tongue. 

Loki's eyes glinted, green and heated, and he very purposefully caught Tom's wrists in one hand, fingers curling against the mortal's fluttering pulse. "Would you have me own you?" Loki murmured, the words caressing Tom's skin, cooling his face and sneaking under his shirt. "Would you give me all that I would have of you?" 

Tom tried twisting his wrists, heart pounding in his ears to discover he had not even a hint of movement available. But he felt none of the fear from the first time they tried this, only warmth pooling low in his belly. He swallowed and peeked up at Loki, watching the way his eyes further darkened when Tom didn't immediately refuse his advances. "And what would you have of me, Loki?" he asked, voice gone low with promise. 

Loki tugged on Tom's wrists, pulling him forward as Loki leaned in. He stopped them just shy of cracking heads, and Tom's breath caught at the very obvious show of strength. " _Everything_ ," Loki breathed against Tom's lips before teeth caught against his lower lip, sharp and sudden, before a tongue traced over the ache. 

Tom caught the faintest whiff of copper, and when Loki pulled back just enough that Tom dared lick his lips, he tasted his own blood. The groan was unintentional, and caught him off guard as much as it did Loki, if the minute flinch the god allowed was any tell. Tom blinked his eyes open, drunk with want, and stared into green eyes so close, they took over his vision. 

Loki pulled back a bit more, so he wasn't completely owning Tom's field of vision, and gently lifted his arms up over his head, forcing Tom to sit straight. Tom felt the god's free hand ghost along the inside of his arm, catching on the loose edge of his sleeve, and passing over his armpit and across his chest. He couldn't stop the hitch of his breath when Loki's fingers caught on his nipple, sensitive from want. 

Loki's eyes glinted, the only warning Tom got before something bit into both if his nipples at once. He arched into it, grabbing uselessly at the air and hearing himself let loose a sound that would probably have embarrassed him more if heat wasn't racing down his body, straight to where his cock was trapped in his too-tight jeans. 

Loki leaned in to nuzzle against Tom's cheek, one hand pressed firmly against his sternum. "You have been holding out on me, my Thomas," the god murmured, the words heavy with lust even as Tom could feel his lover's delight sparking against his skin. 

Tom shook his head, half denial, half surprised at his own reactions. Every movement of his chest, heaving to collect as much air as his lungs could, caused his nipples to brush against the fabric of his shirt, sending sparks of... _something_ singing through his nerves. 

Loki turned his head and licked against the corner of Tom's mouth. "Do you trust me?" he murmured. 

Tom heard the true question: Did he trust his lover to not go too far, and fix him back up afterwards? 

He nodded, two-day stubble brushing lightly against Loki's smooth cheek. "Please," he got out, desperation dripping from the syllables. Because it wasn't a question of trust, not really, but of _need_ , of a month coming home to an empty bed and waking with blasphemy on his lips. The ache of something he hadn't even realised he'd become too attached to, until that something had vanished beyond his reach. 

Loki didn't speak, didn't give any attention to whatever he heard in Tom's voice, only yanked the mortal to his feet and spun them both before shoving Tom down, sparks lighting across his vision and against his chest at the rough treatment. There was a letter under his nose, words of praise black against lined paper, and Tom realised Loki had shoved him down on the kitchen table, uncaring for the fanmail spread out across it. 

"I should make you read it as I fuck you," Loki murmured against Tom's hair, words tingling across his scalp. "To hear you speak of their want for you as I take you..." Loki let out a groan designed to make Tom's head spin as the last hint of sense left him with the blood flowing down to his cock. 

Tom whimpered and went up on his toes to push his arse back against Loki. 

"Next time," Loki rasped just before the sound of ripping fabric filled the room. Tom's arse was ghosted with the chill of room temperature and he shuddered to realise that Loki had just torn his jeans one-handed, his other hand holding Tom's wrists to the table above his head. 

_God_.

A hand palmed him through what was left of his jeans, still caging him in the front. He pushed forward into the hand, desperate for more contact, for Loki to finish destroying his trousers. 

"No," Loki decided as that hand slipped down Tom's bulging trousers and fingers pressed hard on his taint, making Tom jump and moan all at once. "I very much enjoy you as this." The fingers slipped further down, until they were tickling against his entrance, pressing teasingly light against the muscle there. "To have you bared only for me..." He hummed against Tom's nape, setting the fine hairs there on end. "This pleases me," he finished before he sunk his teeth in there. 

The shock of not-quite-pain blinded Tom to the press of two fingers into his anus for a moment, so the jerk of his hips was belated, pushing back against the intrusion and clenching down tight around them, because Loki–

Loki groaned in approval and pulled back to lick over whatever mark he'd left on Tom's skin. "Tell me you _want_ this," he ordered as a third finger shoved into Tom, almost too much, but for a spark of pleasure curling out from those fingers, easing their way. 

Tom closed his eyes and clenched his hands together, needing to hold onto _something_. "Want this," he gasped out obediently, feeling dizzy. " _Need_ you. Loki..." 

Loki let out a snarl behind him and his fingers left Tom as abruptly as they'd entered. "You shall have me," Loki growled against Tom's nape, breath cold over the warm ache his teeth had left behind. 

Magic sparked up Tom's spine just before Loki shoved into him, too rough and hinting at a pain that would likely leave Tom bedridden for days, save for the magic that could ease his pain. 

So Tom pushed back just as hard, welcoming the lance of pain even as he breathed out a sob against the heartfelt praise he was bowed over. 

Loki stilled against him, breathing hard over Tom's shoulder as his other hand reached up to where Tom's hands were holding each other so tight it ached. "Shall I make you scream?" Loki whispered, the words breathless as his hand let go of Tom's wrists and he gently separated the actor's hands. He curled his fingers between Tom's, holding them backwards, and Tom held his fingers tight, trapping Loki there. "Will you cry My name to your Heavens, so your God knows you are ever Mine?" 

Tom whimpered and felt his head moving without his say, nodding his agreement, his approval. He should have been more horrified at this willingness to scorn the religion he'd grown up with, but he'd always known Loki would test him. And now, with the god behind him, filling him so solidly – so _real_ – it wasn't hard to let him win. 

Loki growled out a curse in some other tongue and gave one hard thrust, setting every millimetre of Tom's body on fire. "Say it," Loki ordered, words harsh with a sort of need Tom was sure he could never truly understand. " _Say_. _It_."

"Loki," Tom gasped against black-on-white praise. He tried to hold Loki's fingers more tightly between his own, pushed back against the god seeking to own him. " _Loki_ , my perfect, my wonderful, my Loki." 

"What am I?" Loki snarled, giving another violent thrust, as though he would rip Tom asunder if he gave the wrong answer. 

There was an echo there, dressed as for Halloween and acting out a pain that had echoed through time. 

" _Everything_ ," Tom breathed, the word so honest it ached. 

Loki let out a noise that Tom didn't have words to describe, which curled around and through him, setting his nerves alight with the most impossible pleasure as Loki fucked him, rough and desperate. His teeth sunk into Tom's nape again, a dribble of blood or saliva falling down, around his neck, to splatter quietly against the paper beneath him. 

And Tom howled, crying out Loki's name to ask for more, for less, for everything. 

And Tom may have been the one who was being used, who was screaming for more with his every breath, but it was Loki who had fallen to pieces and trusted his partner to hold him together with anything he had: Everything.

..


End file.
